


Deals with the Devil

by transfiguredtoad



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Sansa is poss underage idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24570796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfiguredtoad/pseuds/transfiguredtoad
Summary: In which deals are made and consequences are dealt with
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Kudos: 84





	1. Observations

Observers would have seen two anxious entries and two hasty, scared exits to Lord Tywin Lannister’s office in the Tower of the Hand that day.

The first was one Lady Sansa Lannister, née Stark, who the castle gossip accused of an unconsummated marriage to Lord Tywin’s son. Kinder people would have seen the cruelty in such a marriage, particularly due to the brutal murder of Lady Sansa’s remaining family just weeks into the marriage. But as was life and Lady Sansa had more pressing issues.

She burst into Lord Tywin’s office and found him surprised by her entrance, by her harried state, by her wide eyes. She was the picture of innocence, the stupid little girl that half the castle believed her to be. There were few that could see past it. One of those was locked deep in the bowels of the castle, in the Black Cells.

That one was Lady Sansa’s husband and he was the very reason for the lady’s visit to her goodfather’s office that day.

“Goodfather,” she greeted. Her voice was tremulous.

“Lady Sansa,” Lord Tywin sighed. “With what can I help you?”

“My lord, I have done all that you asked,” the girl said, tears wetting her cheeks. “I told you of Lord Baelish’s betrayal and I stood by as his head was taken from his body. I am doing all I can to be worthy of trust to you. Please, what else can I do to assure you that my husband and I want to serve you?”

Lord Tywin was a shrewd man and, though he did not react to his gooddaughter’s soft pleas - perhaps he even saw them for the political maneuver they were - he would use them for his own good. The man sighed, portraying himself as a lord tired of the whining of his family. Observers would not understand this, perhaps, but it was quite true. Lord Tywin’s family was not so easy as he had once hoped they would be.

“Sansa, when you married my son, I asked that you gave me a grandchild. You have failed in that respect.”

The Lady Wolf bowed her head in remorse. “My lord, if it were within my ability to grant you a grandchild now, I would. I was grieving and stubborn. I wish that I could help you now.”

Lord Tywin smirked and Sansa looked up, her brow creased with curiosity. She was quite a skilled actress. How she had changed since her arrival in King’s Landing. “Perhaps you could agree to have a child now, gooddaughter.” Sansa’s crafted look of confusion was almost convincing. Lord Tywin looked like a wolf as he finished. “You could take a trip to the Black Cells and impregnate yourself. Or, rather, have my son impregnate you.”

Sansa swallowed audibly. “Yes, my lord, if that is what you require.”

Lord Tywin nodded gravely. “My men will escort you to the cells.” Lady Sansa paused as she turned to leave.

“My lord,” she said softly. Lord Tywin met her eyes. “If I do this, my husband will be free?”

Lord Tywin inclined his head. “I swear it, Lady Sansa. You need only prove your intentions to provide me with a grandchild.”

“Then it will be done.”

XXX

When the next visitor arrived, only half an hour had passed since Lady Sansa had been escorted to the cells to see her husband. This visitor was less of a good actor. It was well known among those who watched that Jaime Lannister could not hide his feelings for the life of him.

He burst into his father’s office, with none of the soft pleas of his goodsister. Instead, the Kingslayer demanded. “Free Tyrion,” he said with ground teeth. “Father, he is your son. Free him. You know he is innocent of this.”

Lord Tywin met his son’s eyes. None of his previous conversation was evident. None of his promise to free his son was visible on his face. “Jaime, it is not so simple. Your sister-”

“Fuck Cersei,” Jaime ground out. “Tyrion is worth a thousand of her.” This time, Lord Tywin’s surprise was clear on his face.

“Quite a change of mind,” Tywin said consideringly and then he nodded as though he had just come to a conclusion. “I suppose if you can change your mind so drastically once, you can do so again.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” His resigned tone suggested that he knew this was a bargaining session. His father would not give in to his son’s demands for any reason other than the receipt of what he wanted.

“Tommen will dismiss you from the Kingsguard and you will get married.”

Jaime’s face showed no surprise. “And you will swear to free Tyrion?”

“I swear.”

Jaime nodded slowly. “Fine. Who will I marry? Where do you need an alliance?”

Tywin’s smile was wolfish. “Where I have before. You will marry Lysa Tully.”

“No,” Jaime breathed. “Father, she is criminally insane. She should be locked up, not married off again, and, anyway, she can’t have children!”

Tywin furrowed his brow. “She couldn’t have Jon Arryn’s children. There is no reason that she could not have your child. And, anyhow, she already has a child. You will control him and, through you, we will have control of the Vale.”

“Father, there must be someone else,” Jaime begged.

Tywin sighed. “I have Sansa for the North and Margaery for the Reach. Trystane Martell and Myrcella give me Dorne. I have no wish for the Iron Islands when I could have the Vale.”

“What about the Stormlands?” Jaime countered.

Tywin narrowed his eyes. “Jaime, Tommen is a Baratheon.” Jaime slumped in his seat, clearly defeated. “Though, perhaps,” Tywin said, crafting every word, “perhaps an alliance with the new liege of the Stormlands would be beneficial.”

“New liege?” Jaime repeated dumbly.

Tywin clucked his tongue. “Tommen is the only remaining Baratheon, you stupid boy. There must be somebody to rule the Stormlands in his stead.”

“Who have you chosen?”

“The only one not to swear for either Renly or Stannis: Selwyn Tarth.” Jaime’s jaw dropped. “He has an unmarried daughter, of course, as you know. You may marry her or Lysa Tully and I will give Addam Marbrand the other.”

“Addam,” Jaime repeated dumbly. Tywin tutted impatiently. “I- Don’t do this,” he said quietly.

“I appreciate that she is homely, Jaime, but -”

Tywin did not get his chance to finish as Jaime jumped out of his chair and stuck his finger in his father’s face. Tywin blinked. “Don’t speak about her.”

And, with that, Jaime Lannister stormed from his father’s office.

XXX


	2. Proposals

Sansa found her husband in the Black Cells. She set her lantern down on the floor, illuminating the cell. The guards remained outside as she entered.

“Sansa,” Tyrion croaked. She provided him silently with a skein of water and he drank slowly while she spoke.

“Your father has agreed to free you.” He met her eyes. “Provided I give him a grandchild.”

The skein slipped from Tyrion’s mouth. “Provided you fuck me you mean?”

“That is a cruder way to put it, but yes.”

Tyrion scoffed out a laugh. “Of course. And who will take the blame for Joffrey’s death?”

“Lord Baelish. He’s already dead.”

Tyrion snorted. “Convenient.” He narrowed his eyes. “You have agreed to this, Sansa?”

Sansa smiled. “I want to go home to Winterfell. Your father promises that we can, that he will send the army to win it back. All I have to do is lie with my husband.”

Tyrion blew out a breath. Sansa wished that she could clamber inside his brain and discover what he was thinking. “Right,” Tyrion said, “and is my father allowing us a bedchamber? Or are we to fuck in the muck?”

Sansa pursed her lips. “Here, yes,” she agreed. Tyrion closed his eyes.

“Gods, Sansa,” he sighed. “I would not blame you if you chose to let me die.”

“If you die, I lose Winterfell,” she said passively.

“Yes, of course,” Tyrion said. Sansa could not read his tone. She hoped that he understood that she had to do this, that she had lost everything at the hands of his family, that she would claw back what she could, while she could. “Very well, my lady. Where do you want me?”

He was japing. Sansa scowled. She had thought of this in theory. The physical reality of it was scary, unclean and daunting. Tyrion clearly saw the look in her eyes. “Take off your cloak,” he suggested. Sansa did so, shivering immediately. Her husband took it from her and lay it down on the floor. “Now you sit on there and-” Tyrion closed his eyes. “Sansa, I want to make this good for you, okay, for you to enjoy it.”

“I don’t care,” Sansa said honestly but her husband shook his head.

“I care.”

Sansa swallowed. “Okay. What should I do?”

Tyrion smiled comfortingly. “Just lie back and spread your legs.” Sansa did so, making sure her head remained on the cloak. She didn’t like to think of the guards watching them but she knew that they had to, to assure Lord Tywin that this had happened. So, she closed her eyes, just as Tyrion pulled down her undergarments and buried his head between her thighs.

XXX

Jaime found Brienne in the courtyard. She was watching the men spar, a funny look on her face.

“They will not let you spar?” Jaime commented as he placed himself casually next to her. Brienne did not look surprised to see him. She shook her head.

“No, it’s not that. I was sparring earlier.”

“With who?” Jaime asked, careful to keep bitterness out of his voice.

“Oh, his name was Addam. He said he was your friend.”

Jealousy flared in Jaime’s chest. It was unfair that Addam could duel with her and he could not. The thought of Addam, however, reminded Jaime why he was here. “Will you walk with me?” he suggested. “I have to talk to you about something.”

Brienne’s eyes were curious but she nodded her agreement. They walked away from the courtyard, to the gardens. “Are you well, Ser Jaime?” she asked. Jaime gave her as much of a smile as he could muster.

“I was going to send you away today,” he confessed when they reached an alcove. He knew that they would likely be overheard but it would be all over the castle by the evening anyway.

Brienne drew back from him. “Send me away?” she repeated incredulously. “Where? With Sansa?”

Jaime sighed. “I was going to try. I’ve had armour made for you; I have a new sword for you. Tyrion’s squire was going to accompany you and, yes, possibly Sansa, if I was able to manage it. Else, I’d have sent her after you.” Brienne’s eyes traced his face. Jaime hoped that he looked as earnest as he felt. 

“Why?”

Swallowing, Jaime said, “I- Cersei, the way she looks at you.” He shook his head. “I was afraid you were going to be- I don’t know, killed, I suppose.”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “Why would she have killed me?”

Jaime glanced away and then back to her, turning to her more hurriedly. “I don’t know. She’s possessive,” he whispered.

“Well, I have no wish to possess you, so she has nothing to worry about,” Brienne said, her smile tight. “Now, if that’s all-”

“No, it’s not all,” Jaime snapped impatiently. “I was going to send you away but have since had to change my mind.”

“I’m so sorry that I’m going to inconvenience you so much,” Brienne hissed. Jaime scowled.

“I never said that, wench.” He sighed and dragged his left hand over his face. The action felt forced and unnatural with his lesser hand. “Tyrion is in prison.”

“Yes, I know, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime hated the way she said his name so much. “Tyrion is in prison,” he continued, “and my father knows he is innocent. He has agreed to free him, at a price.”

“If he knows that he is innocent-”

Jaime shook his head, putting his hand on her knee. “Brienne,” he murmured. She looked at his hand as though it were causing her harm, so he withdrew it. “My father asked-” Jaime sighed “-my father asked me to give up my white cloak and get married.”

Brienne shook her head immediately. “You can’t. Kingsguard serve for life.”

“Wench, will you please let me finish?” Brienne looked chastened. “There is precedent for giving up the cloak. Barristan Selmy was dismissed. I can be too. My father is arranging it.”

“You agreed?” Brienne said in horror.

Jaime looked down at his lap. “Tyrion is my brother,” he said weakly. He felt her weaken next to him. “It’s not as though I’m much use now as a kingsguard,” he said, looking off into the distance.

“That’s not true,” Brienne protested but Jaime shook his head, drawing his eyes back to her.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s done. Tyrion is being freed in a few hours and I’m getting married in two days.”

“Two days?” Brienne said, her eyes round. “How can you be getting married in two days? I mean- is she already at court?”

Jaime slumped his shoulders. “Can’t you guess why I wanted to have this talk, Brienne?”

“What?” she repeated. Clearly not then.

Sighing, Jaime started from the beginning. “My father offered me Lysa Arryn, née Tully. She would secure the Riverlands and the Vale. She already has a son who I would supposedly control, though he isn’t well, so the goal would be for me to have more children by her.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “But she’s not at court. How can she be-”

“I refused,” Jaime said simply. “I was supposed to marry Lysa Tully a long time ago, but I joined the Kingsguard instead. Father offered me a second option.”

“Surely there is nobody as strong as her, for her alliances.”

Jaime shook his head. “No, but the daughter of the new liege of the Stormlands was good enough for my father.” Jaime waited on baited breath to see whether she understood that.

“New liege of the Stormlands? I didn’t realise that there was one. There aren’t so many daughters in the Stormlands to begin with.”

Jaime chuckled, a bit hysterically. He had not been direct in this conversation at all. He had a feeling that she would only be more annoyed because of it. “Brienne, your father has been asked to be the new liege of the Stormlands.”

It took her a second but, when she realised what it meant, her face fell, her eyes bugged out and she covered her mouth with her hand. “No,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, Brienne,” Jaime said, turning to face her even more so. “I tried to say that- I- He- Tyrion is my brother and I have to- I have to protect him.”

“At my expense,” Brienne added, looking away.

“Please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry. I- Even if I agreed to marry Lysa Tully, my father was going to marry you to Addam Marbrand.” Brienne’s eyes went in the direction of the courtyard, where she had sparred with Addam earlier. Jaime wondered bitterly if she was considering whether she would prefer a wedding with Addam.

“Surely I’d be better than Addam,” Jaime said, a bit offhandedly. Brienne looked at him. “I mean, he whores, but I’d be loyal to you. You never know what sort of disease you’re going to get from a man who keeps whores and it would be embarrassing for you.”

“He would allow me to spar, I’m sure,” Brienne commented, her eyes going back to the courtyard. Jaime’s jaw dropped. Was she truly considering this? “Would you?”

She looked at him again, with genuine askance, as though she didn’t know the answer. Jaime scoffed. “You know me so little?” he demanded.

“I know Ser Jaime,” she said, emphasising his title. “I do not know the husband Jaime.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, wench. Why on earth would I not have you fight? I can hardly do it, can I?” he said, holding up the gold ornament Cersei had bestowed on him. “I promise you that if you marry me you can live your life exactly as you are now-”

“No, I can’t, Ser Jaime,” she snapped, standing up, “because I’ll have to be with you, all the time.” Jaime tried to hide how wounded he felt. “And children? Your father will want children, of course.”

“Brienne, please,” Jaime said weakly.

“So, I’ll have to be with the children. Constantly pregnant,” she spat, “in dresses, holding dinner parties, doing embroidery. All the things your father will expect of his gooddaughter.” When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. Jaime jumped up and cupped her cheek in his hand. She looked down at it blankly.

“He can have those things from Sansa,” Jaime said passionately. “All those things, Sansa will give him. If you don’t want children, then we will- we’ll be chaste or we’ll use moon tea. I don’t care. My father doesn’t need to know. He can assume you’re barren.”

Brienne shook her head, shaking away his hand. “He’d have you cast me off and marry someone else.”

Jaime inhaled sharply. “Then you’d be free.”

Brienne turned away from him, brushing tears away from her cheeks. “Jaime, I can’t spend my life watching my husband fuck his sister. I can’t.” It was said at a whisper and it broke his heart. “I’d rather marry Addam and his whores than watch her hurt you for the rest of our lives.”

Jaime looked at the ground. “I’m never going to touch her again,” he swore. Brienne gave him a patronising look.

“It’s easy to say, Ser Jaime, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” Jaime said, coming forward to her again. He took her hand and brought it to his heart. “I- She’s different. I came back and she’s different or I’m different. It’s all changed and I don’t want it anymore.”

Brienne closed her eyes. “She’ll always be there, Ser Jaime-”

“Stop,” Jaime snapped. “Stop calling me Ser. Call me Jaime.”

“Like a wife does her husband,” she said softly. Jaime fell to his knees in front of her, drawing in a horrified look. “What in the Seven are you doing?”

“Begging,” he said simply. “Wench, you’ve made some good points. You can’t see that our marriage is the best thing for both of us. You would be miserable with Addam and, by the Seven, I would be so miserable with Lysa. I- I’ll make it good for you,” he said and then smirked, “and not only in the bedchamber.” Brienne flushed red. “I’ll make you laugh and have people always there to spar with. I’ll hire people to run dinner parties and embroider and run the household. I don’t need a wife for all of that. I need a wife who tells me that I’m honourable, who keeps my secrets, who knows me. You know me, Brienne.”

He watched her swallow and then purse her lips. “Get up,” she ordered him.

“Is this how things are going to go?” Jaime protested, pushing himself up on his one hand. He stood in front of her. “You’re going to order me about for the rest of my life?”

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“But you’re going to, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have me marry Lysa Tully. You wouldn’t marry Addam so that he can go and sample the best of the Stormlands’ whores.” She crossed her arms.

“I am going to agree,” she said and Jaime felt his face turn to a grin, “on a few conditions.”

“Of course. Very responsible. Come, sit, wife,” he said, taking himself over to the bench again and patting the wood next to him. She did sit. “What do you want?”

“No forcing me to wear dresses.”

“Done. I like your arse in breeches anyway.” She gave him a withering look that did not quell his smile. “What else?”

“I decide when we have children.”

“You can pin me down to the bed when you do so.”

“Jaime,” she hissed.

“I could get used to that,” Jaime said with a sigh. “You hissing my name.”

She glared at him. “And, finally, we do not give up on protecting Arya and Sansa. We made an oath.”

Jaime inclined his head. “Yes, wonderful. I certainly agree to all of those things.”

Brienne let out a shaky breath. “Then, yes, I agree. I’ll marry you.”

Jaime leaned forward impulsively to plant a peck on her lips. Brienne’s eyes widened in shock and Jaime grinned. He was rather excited now about all the things this marriage entailed, now that she had agreed. “Shall we go and inform my father? He is going to be thrilled.”

Brienne scowled. “I ought to write my father first, though he won’t get here in time for the wedding.”

Jaime sighed. “I’m sorry, wench.”

“Stop calling me wench.”

“Never. Not even if you made it a condition of marriage.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and Jaime grinned, cupping her cheek and brushing his thumb across her cheekbone. She gave him a confused look that only made Jaime’s smile widen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will I write more? who knows
> 
> I've been awful at writing recently but this was in my head so here we are hopefully it will get me into writing again


	3. Promises

“Then you are free,” Lord Tywin said dismissively. Sansa kept her eyes trained on her lap. She knew that Tyrion was giving her incredulous looks, that he wanted her to sympathise with him that his father was a madman. And Sansa did. But, in this office, that was not the role she played.

“So, now you’ve humiliated my wife and I, I am free,” Tyrion declared, standing. “Well, thank you, Father. Thank you so much.”

Lord Tywin didn’t look up. “I expect to hear of news of a babe within a month.”

Tyrion only scoffed and made for the door. Sansa stood to follow him. “And, by the way, Tyrion,” his father’s voice called them to turn back around. “Your brother is getting married tomorrow evening. I expect both of you there and on your best behaviour.”

Tyrion’s jaw had dropped. Sansa furrowed her brow. Jaime Lannister had never married. He was a Kingsguard. Her confusion grew further when Tyrion began to chuckle, a dark and bitter sound, which finally drew Tywin’s eyes to them.

“You played them both, didn’t you?” Tyrion said, amusement lacing his tone. “Sansa came here and said she wanted to free me. You told her to debase herself and fuck me in the cells. And then, when Jaime came and demanded my freedom, you didn’t tell him that it was already won. You used it to make him give up his cloak, give up his so-called chastity and take a wife. It may have been the other way around, I suppose. Well, Father, I have to say that this is masterful, even for you.”

Sansa felt her body begin to shake. Lord Tywin did not smile. He did not say anything at all, but the look in his eyes was enough for Sansa to know that Tyrion had the right of it. She followed Tyrion to leave, enjoying the slam of the door behind her.

When they finally reached their chambers, Tyrion laughed some more and then shook his head. Sansa did not see what was so amusing. She had been forced to humiliate herself. She had chosen to. It had been her choice in the end. She- It was not as though she loved Tyrion. She only wanted to use him to get her back to Winterfell. But none of it had been necessary. Jaime Lannister had been willing to sell himself to save Tyrion too.

It was a shock to Sansa that Tyrion’s brother was willing to marry, even to save his brother. She knew that he and Cersei were lovers and, from what Tyrion said, under his breath and louder when he was drunk, Jaime was devoted to her. It made Sansa feel sick, the very thought of it. It was like her and Robb, or her and Jon. Wrong and unnatural, no matter how many Targaryen kings had done it.

She wondered who the woman was that Jaime Lannister had agreed to marry. Sansa’s heart longed for friendship, the sort of companionship that she had had at Winterfell, so she could only hope that he had agreed to marry a younger woman, a nice woman, somebody who would be kind to Sansa.

The part of Sansa’s heart that hated all Lannisters - which had already softened for Tyrion - started to weaken towards Jaime Lannister too. If he had made the move first and Sansa had waited a few more days, she may have not needed to humiliate herself as she had. It took a certain type of man to sell himself into marriage, even for a brother he loved, especially when he had a lover.

Though, Sansa supposed, Jaime Lannister had kept up his affair despite his Kingsguard vows, which were taken far more seriously in terms of adultery than wedding vows. There was no saying that he would not do the same in his marriage. Perhaps Sansa would withhold judgment for now.

“I’m sorry, Sansa,” her husband’s voice broke her out of her reverie. Sansa looked up, finding him standing by the jug of wine that was permanently kept in their chambers. “You should never have had to do that.”

Sansa shook her head, striding over to him and taking the jug from his hands. Tyrion watched her dumbly. “It’s over now. In the future, we will be in a bed and there will be no guards watching.”

“You mean, you want to do it again?” Tyrion said incredulously.

Sansa nodded once. “I want Winterfell,” she told him, “and, so, we are going to get pregnant. Then, your father will have no choice but to send the Lannister army to rout out the Boltons, to get them out of my home.”

“Sansa-” Tyrion started, but she wasn’t finished.

“If we want to get somewhere, Tyrion, we have to work together and we have to work with the system. That means working with your father. We will rule the North and have the power that goes with that. When we do, your father will have no hold over us.” Tyrion gave her a look of interest. “But, until then, we do not piss him off, so you will hold your tongue and stop drinking and stop fucking your whore.”

Tyrion blinked in surprise. “Sansa!” his voice was affronted but Sansa shook her head.

“I am your wife,” she snapped. “I am your wife. This is not what either of us wanted but it is the only option now. I want to go home and you want to have power over your father. Get me pregnant, and soon, and we can leave, away from Cersei, away from your father, away from all of the vicious courtiers. We can create our own court, with learning and songs and friendship.”

Sansa spoke with passion in her voice and she watched Tyrion’s anger and confusion turn to genuine interest too. “Okay,” he agreed, nodding. “Okay, no drinking, no mockery, no fucking anyone but you.”

Sansa let out a breath. “Good,” she said, smiling. She reached for his hand. “I am glad to have you here, Tyrion. I could not do this without you.”

Tyrion chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hand. “Indeed not, wife, unless you took a page from my sister’s book and found someone else to impregnate you.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Sansa said, her lips twitching. Tyrion snorted. “Come, my lord, to bed.”

“It’s hardly the evening, Sansa,” Tyrion said incredulously.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. “So?” she said archly. Tyrion only grinned and followed where she led.

XXX

Jaime found Brienne, yet again, at the courtyard watching squires spar. This time, however, she was not alone. Instead, she was in a deep conversation with Oberyn Martell. Jaime slowed his pace to listen to what they were saying, rather than interrupt them.

“-yes, my lady, we will have to spar sometime,” Oberyn said, a smug grin on his face. “I would like that very much. You should come to Dorne. We are far more fluid with rules than the rest of Westeros. Most of our women bear arms.”

Brienne ducked her head. “I would be honoured to spar with you, my lord. It has been some time since I tested myself against such a worthy opponent.” Jaime ignored the surge in his chest, ignored the ache at the end of his sword arm.

Oberyn smirked. Jaime wanted to hit him across the face. Possibly with his heavy, golden hand. “Ser Jaime,” the Dornish viper called, noticing Jaime for the first time. Jaime forced a smirk to his face. “Ah, yes, you are friends with the Lady Brienne, are you not?”

Jaime found Brienne watching him with narrowed eyes. “You could say that,” Jaime said, being sure to add an undertone to his words. Oberyn did not react with surprise, only a deepening of his smirk.

“Lady Brienne and I were just saying how much we would like to - spar,” Oberyn said and the pause in between his words was clear enough for Jaime to see what he was implying. “She is quite phenomenal.”

Jaime swallowed. “Indeed,” he agreed. “It would be a shame if she were to beat you, Oberyn.”

Oberyn’s smile became wolfish, his eyes raking up and down Brienne’s body and then returning to Jaime. “Oh, I don’t know, Kingslayer. I think I’d like it very much if she came out on top.”

Jaime nearly growled, held back only by the sudden feeling of Brienne’s fingers against his wrist. His heart did a funny sort of lurch. He forced a false smile to his face. Before he could say anything, more, Brienne spoke up, “We expect to see you at our wedding, Lord Oberyn. Tomorrow evening, at the Sept of Baelor.”

“Of course, Lady Brienne,” Oberyn said, with a bow. His eyes were, again, not surprised. It had been but hours since Jaime had asked Brienne and she had accepted, but most of the Red Keep knew about it anyway. “Ser Jaime,” Oberyn acknowledged, before leaving.

Jaime let out a scoff, watching him walk away. He found Brienne’s confused eyes upon him. “What was that about?” Brienne demanded.

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you were enjoying his company. He’s a smug, self-serving-”

“Unlike you, of course,” Brienne interrupted. Jaime stepped back, affronted. “He offered to spar with me. It was a kindness.”

“He was offering to fuck you,” Jaime said, in low tones.

Brienne looked almost amused. “I believe he may have been saying that to elicit this reaction from you.”

“To make me jealous?” Jaime questioned, stepping close to her again. “I don’t need to be jealous, wench.” She looked up at him and her amused glint was gone, to be replaced with confusion and worry. He bent to her ear so that she would feel his breath against her skin. “I know you’ll never fuck anybody but me, for the rest of our lives.”

And, with that, Jaime pulled away quickly and turned, forgetting the reason he had come to find her originally and hurrying away to his chambers, only stopping when he turned the corner, to peep back at her and find her still standing stock still. Jaime grinned.

XXX

He found his sister in his chambers, to his great unease. He had yet to speak to her about his marriage to Brienne. It had, after all, only been a few hours since he had decided on it, since Brienne had accepted, and Brienne’s opinion of it was more pressing than Cersei’s, principally because Jaime had not known what Brienne would say but he was fairly certain of Cersei’s reaction.

“When were you going to inform me of your intentions to wed?” Cersei demanded before he had even closed the door. With a sigh, he shut it and turned to her.

“Cersei, you shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“If you had wanted to wed, you should have told me. It is a good plan to keep suspicion away from us. We would have found somebody who allowed you to stay at court and brought us an alliance, without being too irritating.” Jaime narrowed his eyes. “The gossips say that it is that ugly girl that brought you back.”

Jaime squeezed his hand into a fist and then out again. “Don’t, Cersei.”

She glared at him. “You are so honourable, Jaime. She must have made you think you owed her something to make you agree to this. I’m sure Father will straighten it all out-”

“I agreed to marry to have Father free Tyrion,” Jaime said, exasperated. Cersei’s jaw dropped. “We both know that he did not kill Joffrey, Cersei.”

“I cannot believe you, Jaime.”

Jaime scoffed. “You cannot believe that I would give up my cloak to save our little brother? You know me so little, Cersei.”

Cersei smirked, a cruel and twisted thing. “And your new wife will know you any better? How will it feel when she’s stiff and still beneath you, when she’s accidentally biting your cock because she’s got no clue what to do with you.” Jaime winced at the thought, shifting his position slightly, and it made Cersei’s smile widen. She stepped closer to him. “I am the only one who knows you, Jaime. I am your other half. We have been together since birth. There is nobody else for us.”

She was so close to him now that Jaime could feel her breath on his skin, as he had done to Brienne just moments ago. Jaime squared his shoulders. “Cersei, I am marrying Brienne. We are getting married and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Marriage doesn’t mean anything, Jaime,” Cersei said, leaning in. She grazed her lips against his and he flinched away. She ignored it. “Robert meant nothing. Our relationship never stopped. Your foul relationship with that cow will mean nothing too.” Jaime grabbed Cersei’s wrist, suddenly overwhelmingly furious at what she was suggesting. To think that his relationship with Brienne meant nothing-

Cersei’s eyes flamed, glaring venomously at where he was holding her. “Listen to me now, Cersei. My marriage vows are going to mean something, to mean more than my knight’s vows ever did. I am marrying Brienne. She will be my wife and you will not speak about her in that way. You will not speak to her in that way. In fact,” he hissed. “If it was my preference, you would not speak to her at all.”

“You love her?” Cersei demanded, pulling away. Jaime loosened his hold and allowed her to storm away from him. “I do not believe that you can do this, Jaime. What happened to your vows to me? Nothing matters but us - you said that. You cannot abandon me. We are the same person. We are two halves of one whole.”

Jaime laughed, bitterly. “You’ve told me that all my life, Cersei, but it isn’t true. We’re different and I am so glad. If I was as cruel and bitter as you, I am not sure that I would be able to live.”

Cersei reared back. “You will know bitter,” she promised, backing towards the door. “You will know bitter, Jaime, when you are married to a homely cow and thinking of me to get yourself hard. You will know bitter when your whole life is raining down on you in pieces and you will remember this day and you will know that you chose wrong, you chose weakness and you chose to be my enemy.”

Jaime tightened his jaw. “Cersei, get out,” he said simply. Her words ran a cycle in his head. He knew that he was not choosing wrong, nor choosing weakness, but he was choosing to be her enemy. He was choosing Tyrion over Cersei, truly, for the first time in their long lives.

XXX

Brienne blanched as she found Cersei leaving Jaime’s chambers as she approached to knock on the door. It took seconds for Cersei to see her, her eyes narrowing and flashing. She closed the door to Jaime’s rooms, though she must have known that that was where Brienne was headed.

“My goodsister,” Cersei hissed. Brienne swallowed.

“Your grace,” she murmured, trying to walk past her and knock on Jaime’s door. She was not able.

“I suppose you think very well of yourself, earning yourself your Lady of the Rock title, my title.” Brienne blinked. She did not think that Cersei had ever been close to winning that title, except, perhaps, when it looked like Tyrion was going to be killed. “I hope that you see me in his eyes every night for the rest of your life. I hope you know that he is thinking of me, every time he’s forcing himself to get hard for you.” Brienne stepped back, feeling as though she had been struck. “I hope you know that everything that happens between you, I got there first. I was his first love, his first fuck, the woman who gave him his first three children. You will always be second to me, for the rest of your life,” Cersei promised.

Brienne did not say anything. She had nothing to say, nothing that would matter to Cersei, anyway. Cersei only smirked before stalking off, leaving Brienne to stumble back to the wall and let out a shaky breath, playing what she had said around in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I definitely want to do at least more chapter but I'm not committing to a whole fic here, at least not now
> 
> ... maybe when I've finished sunburst


	4. Understandings

Jaime pulled open his door in a burst of desperation to see his betrothed. All of his momentum drained out of him when he saw her, standing there already, pale-faced and frowning. “Looking for somebody, wench?” he asked, smirking at her. She looked up and almost seemed surprised to see him there, as though she were not standing outside his chambers.

“Oh,” she said, glancing towards the end of the corridor. Jaime narrowed his eyes.

“How long have you been here?” Brienne didn’t answer. “What did Cersei say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Brienne said quietly.

A well of fury erupted in Jaime’s chest. “It does matter. I- Come in,” he hurried. She glanced up at him blankly and he gestured to his room impatiently. She nodded distractedly and headed into his chambers. He closed the door behind him. “Whatever Cersei said, it is not true.”

Brienne let out a sort of breathy laugh, walking over to the window. “It doesn’t matter what she said.”

“It does if it’s upset you,” Jaime said quietly. Brienne looked at him impassively, her eyes raking over his features. He swallowed. “She was angry that we are getting married, that I - I told her that I would not be- that she and I were- finished.” Brienne didn’t react. Jaime felt something lodge in his chest.

“Will we stay here after we are wed?” Brienne asked, turning away from him.

“No,” Jaime said, furrowing his brow. “We have to go and find Arya; we have to get Sansa safe.”

Brienne hummed thoughtfully. Jaime’s insides were a ball of anxious energy and he wasn’t fully sure why. He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say, what would make him feel better. “Where will we go?”

“I don’t know,” Jaime said, glancing around the room as though to find an answer for his confusion. “Wench, will you look at me?” She did, albeit coolly. “Whatever Cersei said, it is not true.”

“She said that I would see her in your eyes every night for the rest of our lives.” Jaime opened his mouth and then closed it again. “She said that you would think of her when- She said that I would always be second to her.” She relayed all this in a dull tone, as though it had not affected her whatsoever. Jaime knew better.

“None of that is true. I won’t be thinking of her when I lie with you. You will never be second to her. You’re going to be my wife. That makes you first in my life.”

Brienne sighed. “I forgot that marrying you meant becoming a Lannister.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime whispered.

Brienne shook her head. “It’s okay. We’re saving Tyrion’s life.” Jaime nodded dumbly.

“Why were you here, anyway, wench?” Jaime asked with interest. “I didn’t think that you would follow me.”

Brienne shook her head. “You were jealous,” she said simply. Jaime’s lips parted. “I was jealous when Cersei left your rooms.”

“You thought that I had-”

“For a moment, yes.”

“I will never, never again-”

“I know.” Brienne paused. “I am jealous that she was first.”

It was possibly the most sentiment than Brienne had ever shared with him and it made Jaime’s heart ache. “I’m sorry.”

Brienne shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. She will always be your first love, your first fuck, the mother of your first children.” Jaime was listening to Cersei’s words come from Brienne’s mouth. He wanted to speak but she cut him off before he could. “I will always be jealous of that.”

“I’ll show you,” Jaime promised. “I’ll show you that you are more than that, more important. You’re going to be my wife. She was my first but you’re my forever.”

“Jaime,” Brienne chastised, ducking her head. Jaime sniffed a laugh.

“You’re my forever,” he repeated and he approached her, cupping her waist with his hand. She looked at him in shock and Jaime smiled at her blush. “Can I kiss you, wench?”

“Are you going to call me wench for the rest of our-”

Jaime cut her off with a kiss. She responded after a second or so, her body warm and pliant in his arms. “Yes,” he said when he pulled away. “You are going to be my wench.” Her glare was so powerful that Jaime grinned. “My wench.” Brienne harrumphed. “My warrior wench.” With pursed lips, she glared at him until Jaime gave into the temptation and kissed her irritation away.

XXX

“You said you wanted to meet Sansa,” Jaime reminded her as they walked together towards his brother’s chambers. Brienne nodded uncertainly. “Forget about what Cersei said, about the wedding, about the future, and just remember your oath to Lady Catelyn and you’ll get through it.”

“I never forget my oath,” she hissed at him, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. Jaime sighed, looked her in the eyes and then knocked on his brother’s door.

Tyrion greeted them. “Come in, come in,” he said, welcoming them with a flourish of his hand. Jaime watched his eyes go to Brienne, watched them widen and trace her body from her hips to her face, not in a sexual way, but in what Jaime could only call morbid curiosity. Jaime glanced at Brienne but she wasn’t looking at Tyrion. She was looking further into the room, at Sansa.

Her eyes were wide and there was a soft look on her face. “Right,” Tyrion said, shooting Jame a quizzical look and closing the door. Jaime placed his hand on Brienne’s bicep, curling his fingers around it. She flinched and looked down at his touch blankly. Jaime swallowed his feelings on that.

“Careful,” he whispered, and, for the second time, she pulled away from him, this time with a glare. Cold struck Jaime’s hand, where it had been previously wrapped around her. His eyes followed her as she went over to approach his goodsister.

“Thank you, Jaime,” Tyrion’s sarcastic voice said from below. “It is nice to be free. Yes, it is much nicer up here than in the cells. Hmm, yes, I am feeling much better already.”

Jaime smiled without teeth, turning his eyes to his brother, though he kept Brienne within his periphery. “How was your time in the cells, Tyrion?” he said, overemphasising each word. Tyrion huffed.

“Wine?”

“Gods, yes.”

XXX

“My mother’s sworn sword?” Sansa repeated, her head swirling lightly. When Tyrion had explained that Jaime and his betrothed were coming tonight, Sansa had been expecting to have to listen while they angrily discovered that their marriage was in vain. Perhaps that was to come. She had not been expecting, however, to be discovering anything herself. “You- you swore an oath to see me to safety.”

“I did,” her future goodsister said solemnly, her eyes on her lap. She was not looking at her betrothed, though he was looking at her, even as he shared a goblet of wine with his brother. Jaime Lannister shone. His hair was golden, his countenance arrogant, his very features perfect. Even his loss of his hand had been turned into an opportunity for more gold. Brienne was not golden. She wore bland, men’s clothes. Her homely features did not complement her large body, her awkward way of conversation. “Your mother - I was devastated to hear of her death. She gave me a chance, she trusted me, when few would have. She was a greater woman than I have ever known.”

Sansa swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. She could see her mother, her strength, the way she held herself. She was the tallest woman in any room, without the height of Brienne. “She was, yes, a marvelous woman, but a traitor,” Sansa said dismissively. She saw the look of shocked horror on Brienne’s face and forced herself to look away. “I am glad that you have come to King’s Landing to serve our wonderful king.”

Brienne’s lips had parted, watching her. Sansa pursed her lips, raising her brows, and Brienne drew away from her, almost imperceptibly. The men joined them, bringing goblets for wine with them. Sansa smiled at her husband, nodding at the wine in his hand. “Only one, Sansa, I promise,” he said with a wink. She hummed lightly and sipped at her own wine.

“I do not believe that you can have enticed my brother to stop drinking, Lady Sansa,” Jaime said as he took his seat beside Brienne, his fingers stroking her bicep as he did. Sansa narrowed her eyes.

“Lord Tyrion understands that he needs a clear head sometimes.”

Jaime turned to his brother with raised brows. “This is a fairly new understanding, Tyrion, then?”

Tyrion gave Sansa half a smile. “You could say that, Jaime.” Tyrion cleared his throat. “Speaking of new understandings, I have something to tell you.”

“How ominous,” Jaime said, turning to his betrothed with a waggle of his eyebrows. Brienne was still watching Sansa carefully. Sansa’s insides squirmed but she turned her eyes to her husband.

Tyrion chuckled, drinking deeply from his cup. “It seems that Father played you and Sansa both, brother. You made a deal to free me; Sansa made a deal to free me. Only one would have been necessary, I believe, but the temptation was too much for Father. He gained all that he wanted, in one fell swoop.”

Jaime furrowed his brow. Cersei whispered to Sansa that he was always the stupidest Lannister. She heard Tyrion saying that he was all brawn and no brain. “He had already made a deal with Sansa when I agreed to leave the Kingsguard?” This had drawn Lady Brienne’s attention, her eyes on Jaime’s tight features. “What deal did he make?”

Sansa glanced at Tyrion. She would not answer, would not relay her humiliating loss of virginity in the cells to the Kingslayer, the man who had injured her father. Tyrion smiled tightly. “Father demanded a child from us.”

Jaime nodded, leaning back onto his chair. “But that wasn’t enough for him. He demands an heir from us- from me too.” Jaime’s stumbling over his words caused Brienne to lower her eyes. Sansa watched her with interest. “And, of course, he expects us both to stick to our deals.”

Tyrion nodded. “One would assume. Of course, there are other reasons to keep Father on side,” he said, glancing at Sansa. Winterfell swelled in Sansa’s heart, the warmth of the baths, of the fires filling her veins. “And, anyway, Father has already dismissed you from the Kingsguard. It was the only thing stopping him from marrying you off at any rate. This way, you get a choice,” Tyrion said, nodding at Brienne, who flushed, her already rosy complexion turning scarlet.

Jaime’s eyes were soft as he looked upon her, but Brienne didn’t see. Sansa glanced at her own husband but found that he was watching his brother’s behaviour with his betrothed too.

XXX

“We don’t have to get married,” burst from Jaime’s mouth the moment that they reached Brienne’s chamber in the Maidenvault that evening. Though it was not proper at all for Jaime to be there, there was no stopping this conversation and Brienne would not have followed him to his chambers.

Brienne looked up at him, her eyes dull as they had been since her conversation with Cersei. Anxiety tore at Jaime’s chest. “We don’t?” she repeated, emotionless.

Jaime groaned. “Brienne, will you smile or scowl or do something to let me know that you are not a husk? It is impossible to speak to you when you are only blank looks and sighs.”

She scowled, pleasing Jaime immensely. “You demand my hand in marriage. You do not have the right to demand my emotions too.”

“I am freeing you,” Jaime said, eyes wide. “I am freeing you, Brienne. Do not be obligated. There was no reason for my father to demand that I marry you when Sansa had already made her deal with him. You- you can be free. I can marry anybody now. I’ll go and marry anybody and leave you free.”

Brienne furrowed her brow momentarily and then opened her mouth just to close it again. “I free you from your obligation, Brienne.” How many hours had they been betrothed? It was a contender for the shortest betrothal in history, surely. “You can go and be a shining knight. I will protect Sansa here while you go and fetch Arya, find her and bring her here and then we will take them to Winterfell. My father will win it back and we can have them safe there.”

Jaime was speaking to fill the silence, to distract him from Brienne’s cycle of emotions, from the constant opening and closing of her mouth. Gods above, why couldn’t he read her mind? “I’m sorry to have put you through this,” he eventually said weakly.

“Who will you marry?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

Jaime sighed. “Some prim and proper lady, I suppose, somebody who will plan dances and go riding and I’ll either go insane from boredom or irritate her so much that she’ll start fucking the stablehand.”

“The stablehand?” Brienne repeated. Jaime could see that one side of her mouth was twitching.

“Hmm,” Jaime agreed. “Yes. I’ll have said something to upset her and she’ll be angry and she’ll storm away to the stables, thinking that she wants to go for a ride - and she will, only not on a horse.” Brienne flushed and Jaime grinned, the sight spurring him on. “And then I’ll live for the rest of my days, alone with only my hand for company, thinking of the wench I could have married, if only I’d forced her.”

“Ser Jaime,” she said, horror lacing her tone. Jaime smirked.

“All true, wench, I swear on my honour.” She pursed her lips.

Jaime sighed. “Or we could go to the sept tomorrow and marry each other, because we both know we’ll make each other happy. We could go to the sept and know that the next day we can spar together, go searching for Arya Stark together. I’ll know that I can spend the rest of my life, trying to make you blush, trying to make your lips twitch, trying to make you come.”

“Ser Jaime!”

He ignored her. “I have to admit it will be more difficult with only one hand, but I’ll learn. We will learn together, learn how to make each other happy.”

“I’ll never be able to make you happy,” Brienne said and it was the most emotion that he had heard in her voice all day. “What you see now is what I am always going to be. I won’t wear dresses, I won’t-”

“I’ve already agreed to all this, wench!” Jaime said with frustration. “I don’t want you to wear dresses or hide behind what you think a lady should be like. If I wanted somebody like that, I would break this betrothal off now and marry one of the many women at court. I want a real wife, a real woman who I can spar with in the day and who I can tell all my secrets at night.”

“Do you have a lot of secrets, Ser Jaime?” she asked, more amused than interested.

Jaime put his hand on his heart. “So many secrets, but I won’t even tell you one unless we’re married.”

Brienne hummed, looking away from him. “My father will be furious, you know, if he arrives and I’ve finally got married without him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy too,” Jaime said hesitatingly. Brienne pursed her lips and looked away. Jaime sighed and sank to his knees. It took her a second or two to notice but, when she did, her eyes went wide and her cheeks were so flushed that Jaime had a new target to beat, the next time he wanted to make her blush.

“What in the Gods’ name are you doing?”

“Making a formal and romantic plea for your hand, like the peasants do.”

“I don’t think the peasants do this, Jaime,” Brienne said slowly.

Jaime tutted. “Then Tyrion must have lied, but no matter. I’m asking you, Brienne, to marry me, to save me from a life of misery and boredom. I promise to make you smile every day, to let you have full control over what you do and where you go, and to always protect who you are from those who would wish to change you. I want to marry you.” She was looking down at him, soft-eyed and lips parted. “Marry me, wench.”

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, I’ll marry you, Jaime.”

Jaime grinned and leapt to his feet. It was the second time that day that she had agreed to marry him, the second time that he had gone on his knees before her to ask her to marry him and, when he got close enough, it was the second time that, joyous with her acceptance, he pressed their lips together in celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I know I keep saying i'm not going to write anymore and then I do
> 
> it's the only thing that I've got any motivation to write atm so it's possible that there will be more
> 
> however if I do get motivation to write literally any of my wips I will have to focus on those becasue they existed first! Thank you so much for all the love though really means the world to me


End file.
